


Orange Marshmallow

by foxjar



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Carrying, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Minor Injuries, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 19:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20935370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: Yusuke holds Akira like a soft marshmallow.





	Orange Marshmallow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Voldecourt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voldecourt/gifts).

Akira has known Yusuke long enough to pick up on the way his eyes wander, soaking in the world around him. He himself has always been perceptive, watching out for friends and strangers alike — this is what led to him being banished to Tokyo, after all — but for Yusuke, it's a little different.

It's an artist's way of seeing the world, with every inch and every mile forced into whatever composition he desires. The world is a puzzle, awaiting his eyes to peer closer and for his hands — calloused, as Akira has learned — to wrench it apart. Then he filters it all through his heart and onto his canvas, raising more questions than answers in his pursuit of what drives humanity's passion.

This is why Yusuke notices him limping, even in the deepest pits of Mementos where there are more shadows than anything else. He notices because he's always looking.

Akira knows this because he's always looking, too. Maybe not the way Yusuke does, with his boundless energy and eyes wide with wonder even at the most grotesque of enemies, but he sees more than he lets on.

Yusuke's hand on his shoulder is soft at first, as if pondering what he should do, but then he wraps his arm around his waist, pulling him closer.

"You're hurt," he says, voice pained in a way that almost makes Akira think he might have sustained damage himself. But no, it's just Yusuke — words dripping with guilt as if he could have prevented his comrade from being injured.

Akira almost feels a twinge of remorse at maybe exaggerating his limp a little too much, but with Yusuke's hand on him, he can't admit that — not even to himself.

Yusuke's stronger than he looks and without warning, he's pulled Akira up and into his arms, cradling him as if he is the most precious thing in the world. And he might be — in Yusuke's world, anyway.

Even when they slip out of the Metaverse, Yusuke stills clings to him, shrouded by the darkness of the night. It's a strange sort of position — being suspended in the air like this — but Akira is enjoying it more than he thought he would, excitement coursing through his veins even though they've escaped whatever danger they might have been in.

Yusuke presses his lips to his hair and it takes a while for Akira to realize he's nuzzling him, nose brushing his forehead. His skin is cold, but he likes it. He wants Yusuke here just like this — close and comforting — for as long as his attention span will allow.

"I could put you down," Yusuke says, gripping him tighter. He doesn't move, nose still in his hair, breath warm against his ear.

"Yes. You could," Akira agrees. "But don't."

He isn't sure whether it's a plea or a command, but Yusuke complies regardless. Even once they've made it back to Leblanc, the chime on the door tinkling as he eases it shut with his foot, Yusuke holds onto him. Akira has to bite back a laugh when he attempts to carry him up the stairs; it's a sweet attempt, but they're just too narrow.

Yusuke huffs once he finally sets Akira down like he's lost an argument they never started. His hands rest on Akira's hips, steadying him as if he hasn't memorized every inch of Leblanc already — enough to make his way up to the attic in the dark, at least.

Akira wonders if he knows he's safe here with him — that he won't ever have to fight to be who he is, unchained and without restraint. Yusuke is a flurry of passion and love, and all Akira wants is to see him flourish in a way he doesn't know how to express with words.

It's here in the dark on the narrow stairway where Akira kisses him, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt. Maybe a button or two pops open in his haste, but right now, nothing else matters — just warm lips on his and fingers digging into his hips.

There's something peaceful about the dark — in knowing exactly who he's with, and yet being able to see so little. He can make out the shape of him even without his hands running through soft hair and across broad shoulders, but he can't see the fire in his eyes that makes him uniquely Yusuke. He just feels it in his kiss and the way he pulls him up the stairs, leading him up to his makeshift bed before he kneels before him on the ground.

Yusuke rolls up the leg of his pants, fingers icy against his skin as he searches for whatever injury was causing him to limp earlier. If he realizes there never was one — at least nothing significant enough to truly hurt Akira — he doesn't mention it. There's just enough moonlight sifting in through the window to make his eyes glow, and for a moment, Akira thinks he sees him smile.

His shoe slips off easily enough, and then Yusuke lifts his leg up before kissing his ankle, his own form of first aid. His lips are magic — more than he could ever know.

To his credit, he does rub along Akira's leg, searching for any soreness, but he's fine. He's safe. Yusuke crawls into bed with him once he's satisfied with his assessment, pulling the covers over them after their remaining shoes have been tossed off to the far corners of the room.

"If you were truly injured, I don't know what I would do," he confesses, burying his face in Akira's hair again like it's where he belongs.

"You'd kiss me until I was all better."

It sounds like a joke and as Yusuke starts to protest, Akira taps his lips with his finger to shush him. He means it both literally and figuratively, in a way he knows Yusuke will understand if he tries. With him here, arms wrapped around his waist and lips brushing his bangs, he doesn't need anything else. They could be enveloped in silence as Akira watches him pursue whatever task he pleases — painting, sleeping, or watching him right back — and it would fill him with the greatest joy he has ever known, his chest tight with emotion.

Just like now. Like always.


End file.
